We interrupt our story about a nervous, edgy young man on the run from an abusive marriage

About the author:
Born in south London, UK, have a degree in Languages (French and Spanish) and a postgrad certificate in Translation. One novel and one non-fiction book published, 20+ stories also. Have been living in Birmingham, UK, since 2011.
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It could not only swim, it could see in the dark forests of the night as well as if it had been daylight, and when there was daylight it could hide itself perfectly in the trees, shifting the colours of its skin like a chameleon.

It walked out of the waters of Birch Lake as though it had been reborn; for indeed it had. It had been dormant for a while now, sleeping in the cylinder that the twin-engined aircraft dropped into the lake, until reactivated and flung unceremoniously into the waters, thence to find its way onto land.

Hungry, it thought. Hungry. Food. It found a small deer and broke its back, chewed at the dying creature, but knew as it was so doing that future kills would be better, cleaner, more elegant. Canines sheared flesh from bone. Deep-socketed eyes scanned the forest as it ate. It crouched on long legs and contemplated. The deer was dead now, its horrified screams still echoing in the high frequencies that it, unlike humans, could hear.

Eating the deer had sated the creature's hunger for now, and its thirst could be satisfied by returning to the lake to drink the cool slightly tangy water, but it knew that it would be hungry again, and that it was there for a reason. It had been given clear instructions.

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